


Bears Wanted!

by Fairleigh



Category: Original Work
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Sex Work, Sex with Sentient Animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23879665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairleigh/pseuds/Fairleigh
Summary: A gay porn studio replaces its old "bear" George with an actual sentient grizzly bear!Porn star Rodney is less than pleased with this development ... at first.
Relationships: Gay Male Pornstar Who Wants Clearer Help Wanted Ads/Sentient Male Grizzly Bear, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 7
Kudos: 58
Collections: Id Pro Quo 2020





	Bears Wanted!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nununununu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/gifts).



Rule of Thumb: It is never, _ever_ going to be a good day at work if the very first thing you do after clocking in is to scream your head off in terror. This goes for office work, factory work, retail work, and, yes, sex work.

“Whoa. Take a deep breath and a chill pill, girlfriend,” Mitch said. He was sitting off to the side, legs crossed, supremely unconcerned. He didn’t even bother looking up from the magazine he was reading. (This month’s _Vanity Fair_ , because of course it was. Sometimes, Mitch got so caught up in his “art” that he forgot that he was being paid to produce and direct _porn_.)

“But there’s a _bear_ on set!!” Rodney Yong, a.k.a. “Hot Rod,” a.k.a. “Yong Dong Silver” shouted. He was not about to take a deep breath and a chill pill while there was a real live grizzly bear on set. A grizzly bear, like on one of those Attenborough nature documentaries, with claws and … and teeth … and … oh, Holy Mother of God …

Teeth that were currently being flashed in Rodney’s direction. Fuuuck, was the bear actually trying to smile at him?!

“Pleased to meet you. My name’s Bernard, but you can call me Bern if you like.”

Yes, it was trying to smile at him. And it was talking, too. “It’s … it’s talking … ”

“Aww, man, don’t be such a shithead, Rod. Bern is male-identified, same as you. We’re hiring _him_ ” — now Mitch could be bothered to look up, and he was shooting Rodney a look of purest disdain — “to replace George. Just waiting on the results of the STI screening.”

Bernard trundled forward and held out one very large, very furry, very impressively clawed paw. Like he wanted to shake hands with Rodney. “I look forward to working with you, Rod. I’m such a big fan of your work,” he said. Christ, he _was_ trying to shake hands.

Rodney stared Mitch, at the outstretched paw, and back at Mitch again. “George?” he asked. He was confused. “But George was our — oh.” Sudden realization dawned. Fuuuck, Rodney was gonna kill somebody with his own bare hands.

Right after he finished passing out.

~*~*~

Next time, I’ll write the help wanted ads. That’s what Rodney had told Mitch after that last debacle with the baker and the candlestick maker. But nooo, Mitch had had to go place them himself. _Again._

George was a big man with lots of thick, dark body hair — in the subcultural parlance, a bear. He was also the proud owner of an absolutely gigantic dick. But a month ago George had unexpectedly inherited a large estate from an old flame, bequeathed to him in the man’s will. It was the sort of thing most people only dreamed about … and the one catch was that the old flame hadn’t appreciated George’s continued career in pornography. Forced to choose between sex work and a trust fund, George had understandably chosen the latter. And so after that it was buh-bye, see ya around, cocksuckers!

Meaning, the studio needed a new bear to replace George. Thanks to Mitch’s imprecise language, however, instead of the big, hairy _human_ male, they’d gotten an actual talking grizzly bear. 

~*~*~

Mitch was determined to make the best of the situation. Fate had intervened, he said, and who was he to question fate? Plus, there might be an underexplored market for bear-on-man (and man-on-bear!) sex. And besides, or so he said, it was a unique opportunity to expand his creative horizons as a filmmaker.

Rodney, for his part, wanted nothing to do with any of it, and he staunchly refused to do scenes with Bernard, full stop … which didn’t stop him from asking aggressive questions whenever they were on break.

“Where does your type even come from, anyway?”

Bernard took Rodney’s question seriously. “Historically speaking, brown bears could be found throughout both Eurasia and North America,” he said. “My immediate family’s American, but I’m told I have distant relatives as far as the Tibetan plateau. Have you ever heard of the yeti? Yetis are actually Tibetan brown bears.”

“Do they talk, too?”

“I don’t know. Distant relatives. We’ve never become personally acquainted.”

“Why do _you_ talk?”

“I don’t know. Why do you?”

“Um. Well.” Rodney had no idea why humans had learned to talk. That kind of anthropological knowledge was so far above his pay grade he’d need to be in outer space to see it. “Why is it I’ve never heard about talking grizzly bears before?”

“Hmm. Maybe because you never cared enough about bears to listen to us before?”

Rodney frowned. He didn’t think he liked the implications of that. It wasn’t as if he were born with strong opinions one way or the other about bears! But OK, point taken, maybe he didn’t know about talking grizzly bears because he’d never taken the time to care. Maybe he’d been assuming wrongly about things. After all, Rodney was a porn star as well as a gay man; he knew what it was like to be the object of other peoples’ erroneous assumptions!

“Or, it could be possible that I just happen to be the first bear interested in striking up a conversation with you,” Bernard continued.

Rodney’s frown deepened. Did the talking bear actually _enjoy_ talking to him in particular? Even when he was asking these deliberately rude questions? A tiny minnow of guilt nibbled at his conscience. “Look, uh, Mr. Grizzly — ”

“Please, call me Bern.”

“OK, yeah, whatever. Look — ”

“Hey, Bern! Where’d you get to?” A shout. It was Mitch. “We’re ready and waiting for you on set!”

The set in question was designed for solo scenes: midcentury modern, with sleek lines, venetian blinds, and a luxurious shag rug. Everything was white and so brightly lit it was practically blinding, and both worked wonders to accentuate the natural beauty of the body.

On set, Bernard’s fur wasn’t brown: It was color of summer honey, varied, subtle shades of amber and gold, each strand tipped with silver. Bernard sprawled out on the shag rug, big and plush and looking positively decadent. When he sat back on his haunches like this, he looked almost like a human in a bear suit.

No one would mistake Bernard’s genitals for a human’s however. His prepuce and scrotum were thickly furred, the majority of his penis hidden within the prepuce, almost invisible when flaccid. Bernard opened his rear legs, holding them out straight in a classic pornographic display. He vocalized, low and deep and _animal_ , and his penis, shockingly pale in comparison to his coloring elsewhere, began to engorge and reveal itself.

Bernard dropped his paws down low, rubbing with the thick pads, teasing. His penis, pointed and long and lightly curved as it filled completely, was undeniably inhuman. It waved at the camera. Look, a tease. Bernard stroked his penis with the pad of one paw, base to tip, emitting pleasurable rumbling sound that Rodney felt more than heard.

Mitch gave the signal — no more teasing. Bernard began stroking in earnest, preparing to orgasm for the camera. He threw his head back as the pleasure intensified, lips curling back from wickedly sharp, yellow teeth, and then his big bear hips juddered once, twice … and then he came, volleys of semen shooting from his erection with the force of a fire hose.

Oh Lordy, it was _hot_. Rodney was about to have a very big problem in his pants. He excused himself hastily, sprinted to the bathroom, and locked himself in the stall. After double-checking to make sure he was alone, he hauled his dick out and jerked off into the toilet bowl while visions of a certain sexy bear danced in his head.

~*~*~

Rodney’s involuntary response to Bernard’s solo scene had not gone unnoticed.

“Oh c’mon, girlfriend, they’ll love you forever for it on Pornhub,” Mitch wheedled. “Either that, or they’ll hate you forever because they’re so jealous and they’d kill to be in your place.”

“No. I don’t bottom for bears,” Rodney said flatly.

“That’s not what was in your contract.”

Rodney decided not to dignify that with a reply.

“OK, OK. I’ll pay you double the usual for unprotected anal.”

“No.”

“C’mon! You’re killing me here. Bern’s screening came back clean. Not that bears have anything humans can catch.” Mitch paused, scratching his head. Yeah, neither he nor Rodney was completely sure about that, in fairness, but if the screening came back clean, the risks were probably minimal. And it had always been good enough for Rodney in the past. “Triple.”

“Hmm.” Triple was a decent chunk of change. Mitch, cheap bastard that he was, wasn’t one to offer triple on any normal working day.

“Please, Rod. You’re our most watched bottom. A scene with you and Bern will make us _rich_. Tell you what. I’ll even throw in an all-expenses-paid working holiday to Ibiza.”

“Hmm.” Rodney _loved_ Spain. Ibiza was where he first came out as gay. “Upgrade the flight to business class.”

“Done.” Mitch held out a hand expectantly.

It was a deal. Rodney sighed and shook Mitch’s hand.

~*~*~

They decided to film outdoors. It was always a bit chancy, since nobody could control the weather, but they figured the value of a naturalistic garden setting would more than worth the inconvenience. Rodney asked for a picnic blanket; grass only _looked_ soft, and he wasn’t on the market for an itchy butt after this was over.

The scene was pretty standard: 1) kissing, cuddling, and foreplay; 2) blowjob; 3) three positions for anal. Simple and sweet. The bear-on-man sex would be the main draw anyway.

Cuddling and kissing a real grizzly bear was awesome, as it turned out, like being wrapped in a living, breathing bearskin rug. There was a reason why a big, all-encompassing embraced was called a bear hug. Rodney felt engulfed, in the best possible way.

And bear lips — ! And bear tongue — ! Ahhhhh!! The lips were sensitive and mobile, and the tongue was sloppy, wet velvet. Ohhhhh, and that tongue felt _even better_ on Rodney’s erection. Who’d’ve thought bears would have such long and talented tongues?! He could wrap his tongue around both Rodney’s cock and balls at the same time, stimulating both as a single package, and all Rodney could do was curl into the pleasure and hang on, stroking Bernard’s furry muzzle and his clamshell ears.

As for the actual fucking, well, that was, if possible, even better. They started on their sides, with Bernard against Rodney’s back; it was a great angle to film the initial penetration. Bears did not have disproportionately large penises, thank goodness, and Bernard slipped in easy as a key into the lock that was made for it. What _was_ different, though, was the bone. Bears had real bones in their boners, and it made them, well, bone-hard. Bernard wasn’t even thrusting that hard yet, and Rodney felt like his prostate was being fucking _pummeled._

And when he turned Rodney onto his belly and really started to go for it, holy fuuuck. Rodney was seeing stars. He was also vocalizing, whimpering, swearing, pleading, and it wasn’t an act. When they got into their final position, missionary style, face to face, Bernard didn’t bother pulling out. He just turned Rodney over like meat on a spit and kept right on going.

Face-to-face was the best. Rodney loved the vulnerability of lying beneath his lover, and he loved the intimacy. He reached up, wrapping his limbs around Bernard. Bernard bear-hugged him back. They undulated in unison, their pace accelerating as the tension built.

“I’m close,” Rodney murmured. He could come untouched when he was really worked up, and right now he was really, _really_ worked up.

Bernard reared up on his hind legs, to give the camera a good angle of Rodney’s erection, and pounded him straight into a blinding, spurting orgasm. “I-I … B-Bern …!” Rodney shouted, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

Bernard rammed himself home one last time, roaring as he began to come deep inside Rodney. That hadn’t been a part of the original plan for the scene.

Afterwards, Bernard licked Rodney lovingly clean. That hadn’t been a part of the original plan, either … but strangely, Mitch never spoke up once to complain. It was intimate, even more than the internal come had been.

By the time the cameras had stopped rolling, they were head over heels in love.

~*~*~

Rodney and Bernard were married in Ibiza. Mitch was Bernard’s best man, and George gave away the blushing bride.

They filmed their wedding night and a good portion of their honeymoon, too. It was a working holiday, after all.


End file.
